


Three-oh-five

by draco_somnians



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Episode: s05e11 Desperate Measures, F/M, Ficlet, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-16
Updated: 2010-03-16
Packaged: 2017-10-08 00:49:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/71005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/draco_somnians/pseuds/draco_somnians
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam learns exactly what Jack had to sacrifice in Desperate Measures. Set post-season 8. Written for sj_everday Challenge 115.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three-oh-five

Sam stretched out in the bed as she woke up slowly, but when she rolled over to Jack’s side and found it empty, her eyes blinked open and she stared at the void. Glancing around his dimly lit bedroom, she could see no sign of him, save for his jeans and shirt crumpled up on the floor.  She listened for some indication that he might have got up to use the bathroom, but heard nothing.

Slipping out from the warmth of the covers, she grabbed a t-shirt from his drawer and pulled it over her head. Making her way quietly down the corridor of his DC apartment, she found him in his small office, lit only by the glare of his PC screen. She leaned against the door for a moment, just drinking in the sight of him wearing just his boxer shorts and his glasses, peering intently at the screen.

“Did I wake you?” he asked softly, not taking his eyes off the screen and she shook her head as she pushed herself off the door frame.

“No,” she answered, stepping up behind him and glancing over his shoulder at the computer. “What are you doing?”

“Shopping,” he said simply, like it was the most natural thing in the world to be logged into eBay at three in the morning watching an old edition of a magazine.

“Jack...” she said, shaking her head and mildly endeared by the man’s eccentricities. She shifted around to his front, and wormed her way onto his lap. He took his eyes away from the screen for a brief moment to give her a quick kiss and then focussed once again on the ticking clock signalling the end of this items auction.  

She chuckled softly and kissed his cheek. “I thought you had a subscription?” she asked.

“I do,” he answered.

She raised her eyebrows at his evasive answer. “So...why are you buying it on eBay? At three-oh-five?” 

“This one is missing from my collection,” he said.

She peered at the details on the screen. “It’s from ’99,” she said, frowning, “You’ve had your subscription longer than that.”

He sighed. “Yeah.”

She placed her fingers on his chin and turned his head towards her. “Jack?” she said softly.

He sighed again. “You remember when you got kidnapped by Adrian Conrad?” he asked, squeezing his arm around her a little tighter. She nodded and almost rolled her eyes; of _course_ she remembered. “Well...there was this homeless guy who gave me some information. He saw you get snatched. His reward...” he cleared his throat, “...was my closet-full of National Geographics.”

He smiled as her jaw dropped, his eyes shining with affection.

“Your entire collection?” she whispered, and he nodded.

 Then suddenly, she kissed him roughly on the lips, winding her arms tight around his neck, and, after a few seconds, their lips melted together, their tongues sliding over each others. The hand that had been glued to his mouse slid up her thigh and under the cotton of the t-shirt. Just as he was nearing the top of her thigh, his computer beeped.

He broke the kiss, pulled his hand back to his mouse and let out a triumphant “Yes!” when he saw the screen. “I won,” he explained, grinning at her.

She smiled indulgently at him, running her hands through his short, almost-white, hair. “How many more until the collection is complete again?” she asked.

“Four,” he beamed at her.

“Wanna see if there are any more?” she said, nodding to the computer.

He shook his head. “Nah,” he said, “I can do that tomorrow. Right now...” his lips latched onto her neck and her breath caught in her throat, “...it’s late. We should really get back to bed.”


End file.
